It Wasn't the First Time
by Pokemon67
Summary: Summary: Richard, Miranda, and Derek all have the same thought when Thatcher slaps Meredith after she delivers the news of Susan's death. It wasn't the first time he hit her...


**Me: Susan died and Thatcher slapped his daughter. I was so stunned and horrified. Oh Meredith…**

 **Disclaimer- I don't own anything.**

 _-Pokemon67 apologizes for any and all grammar errors. She stupid. Don't worry, she knows-_

 **It wasn't the first he hit her.**

In a split second, Richard relieved those years of sneaking around with Ellis. Those nights she invited him over because Thatcher was out. A little girl's wisp of blonde hair turning a corner, her big eyes watching him over a banister. He remembered a formal visit, a 'meeting' he and Ellis had and seeing her face to face. Meredith's face staring at his, silent, a large bruise on her arm.

''She's clumsy,'' Ellis had said, shaking her head and reaching out to touch her daughter's hair. Richard remembered how Meredith had flinched.

He wasn't a fool: he knew Ellis was a 'firm' parent. And he knew that firmness caused her to be harsh. But he had always thought it was no different than when he was a child. He remembered his mother losing her temper and grabbing his arm too tight. He remembered making a smart remark and getting a slap across the face. But the arm was always apologized for, and the slap never made a sound like the one Thatcher dealt Meredith now. Plus, that was when he was a _child_ ,not an adult.

Richard had known Meredith was disciplined liked that. But he had actually entertained the notion that it was Thatcher who was the only one treating her that way. Maybe Ellis leaving him wasn't just so she could be with him, but also to get her daughter out of that situation.

Despite all the evidence to the contrary, Richard had believed that Meredith wasn't abused. And in a split second, he was proved wrong.

….

 **It wasn't the first he hit her.**

Miranda froze for a second. The way Thatcher slapped Meredith the _second_ she gave the news, the _second_ she said something to upset him— it was an automatic response. Miranda felt bile rise in her throat. The hair on her neck stood up. She pursed her lips and watched as Meredith walked away. Quickly, but _walked._ Not ran. Walked.

Meredith didn't walk away in anger, or fear, or even sadness. The look on her face was on of resign meant. All this time she had been working on her relationship with her father, she thought she could make it work. But she had been wrong.

Miranda glanced at the grieving man in the waiting room. She could sympathize with his loss, but she hated him for raising his hand against his daughter. No parent had that right.

…..

 **It wasn't the first time he hit her.**

Derek couldn't move. It was as if the sound of the slap had paralyzed him. His mind wasn't spinning, but narrowing down in a straight line, taking his breath away.

All the times Meredith had stumbled over her words.

All the times she had clumsily apologized.

All the times over the last few days, trying to communicate.

All the times she had brought up her newfound family without ever really saying anything.

She had been trying to tell him. Trying to communicate. And he hadn't listened.

"Meredith..." he tried to say, reaching out to her.

She shook her head. "No. Just, no." And she left. Left the hallway. Left her father behind. Left the family that she thought maybe wanted her.

And Derek let her go.

…..

 **He remembered the last time he hit her.**

Ellis had just broken the news that she was leaving him. He had seen it coming. He wasn't stupid. They were still living together, though since she was never home it didn't really matter. They were getting the divorce papers ready, and their last conversation was replaying itself in Thatcher's mind.

" _I'm taking Meredith."_

How dare she. Was it her that rocked Meredith to sleep as a baby? Was it her that sent her off to school each day? Was it her who treated every fever? Meredith was _his_ daughter. Not Ellis'.

"Daddy?" A six year old's voice intruded Thatcher's thoughts. "Are you okay?"

Thatcher took a breath. "Yes, I, um, was just thinking."

"Do you want to play?" Meredith asked, hanging off the arm of the sofa, a grin on her face. "Playing helps me think."

"Not now, Meredith."

"Sometimes doing another thing helps you figure something else out."

"Meredith-"

"C'mon. Distracting yourself from one problem helps you solve it in the end. Mom said-''

And before he even blinked had pushed her off the arm of the sofa.

What was worse than _shoving_ his own daughter is that she didn't even say anything. Just picked herself up and mumbled an apology before leaving to go to her room. She spent so much time alone in her room.

Thatcher remembered being stunned at himself. He remembered replaying all the times he had been rough with her before. A push here, a smack of the hand there. He recalled all the times he had helped her get ready for bed and seen her black and blues and scolded her for being so clumsy. And it wasn't until now, in that moment, while lamenting the idea of losing his daughter did he realize what a horrible parent he was.

He left Meredith, with a promise to himself that he would never hit her again.

But here they were. In this hospital. And there was Meredith. Telling him that his wife, his beautiful wife was gone. She couldn't get away with that. She couldn't say that.

And just like that day, and like a thousand days before, he hit her. Because she was bad.

And just like all those times before, she just picked herself up and walked away.

 **Me: It's short. I might add to it or write a separate story about Meredith's POV or something. Ugh, I love this girl and she just doesn't deserve all the crap happening to her. Please leave a review if you can.**

 **Happy Writing.**


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